:D please meet in the Ivory horn which is located in doma, or in the streets around. Please do not have your character intercept amana or the warrior just yet.

Okeedokee folks.....cheers and good luck. *puts on hat of ebil gming* and let's get this show on the road! *huggles to all*:love:

<span style="font-family:courier; color:fuchsia;font-size:medium;">AND WE'RE OFF AND RUNNING AGAIN FOLKS! Rawr! and good luck! *dusts off her ebil gm hat, and renews the evil, this time PHIL SYS!*</span>

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It rained. Doma's streets were washed clean of all debris as the water continued to pound down as it had for the past week. It's citizen's hurried about their business, and ventured outdoors only when absolutely necessary. The local merchants cursed often, for few wanted the dousing to visit their shops.

One figure, standing straight as an arrow, made it's way down the sodden streets, leather boots soaked through already.

It paused momentarily, to stare in the windows of a crowded inn. It, unlike most places, was quite crowded, and the people inside were happily engrossed in drinking, fighting and flirting.

The warrior wrinkled her scarred nose in disgust at herself for stopping. Pulling her cowl lower over her face she began her trek again, threading her way towards the southern slums.

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The clamor of the Inn seemed inviting, as about ten minutes later, a young man entered the Ivory Horn.

To all who did not know him, he was an enigma to look upon. He wore robes according to the order of Ashura, and carried a large tome of holy texts and spells. His eyes were mild, and he had an open and inviting, innocent gaze.

But that was not what was first noticeable. His skin was of a dark blue verging on black with brilliant white hair that had been gathered into small braids and adorned with gold beads on the ends. This man was of the drow nation. And what he wore, and the pigmentation of his skin, screamed against one another. It was easy to assume, that his costume was another new bit of drow trickery, for there were few if any that were ever up to any good. Also, if you looked at him carefully, you had the nagging suspicion you had seen him before, or that he resembled someone you met once perhapsâ€¦

He quietly threaded his way through the bar, and seated himself at a table towards the back and laid his head down on the table, heaving a large sigh. He scrunched up his face, and fought the urge to cry.

Elan Ill Bast, was worried immensely about his sister.

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Sarah was known for her excellent housekeeping. Her husband always bragged to his friends that he had bagged the best that Doma had to offer. Sarah could cook wonderful meals, her cleaning made their small rather rag tag little home shine, and she was a quiet and loving woman.

At the moment, her hands were wrist deep in some dough she was kneading. She was making a pie as a surprise to her husband. She had been able to cut back their expenses enough to allow her to make this little treat. She was making his favorite, apple spice pie. It was the various spices she used that made it a bit more expensive to make. But the flavor was worth the occasional cost. It had a taste of lovely apple, juicy and ripe, mixed with cinnamon and something elseâ€¦ Sarah would never tell what the something else was. But it gave the filling an exciting mysterious flavor that no one could quite guess.

The dough was about ready, but Sarah was just enjoying the simple feel of it between her fingers, and she was in no particular hurry at the moment. Her husband was over at a friend's house, playing a card game. She knew Joshec would be later than usual, because no doubt the card game would last a bit longer because of the men's reluctance to get out in the rain.

Sarah stared out the open kitchen window that stood before her, mesmerized by the pattern the rain was making on the muddy road. The young wife liked it when it rained, it made the worn down and dirty little neighbor hood seem cleaner, and the air much fresher. While Sarah took great care of her home, not many of her neighbors were as diligent.

Suddenly, something was blocking her view of the window. Her brow wrinkled and she tried to make out what it was.

As her eyes adjusted, she could only pick up something red, and a large mass of whiteâ€¦with a few blinks it became clear. The form in front of her was a handsome man with skin that was an odd shade of darkish blue black, wearing black silk robes that were soaked through by the rain. Cascading all around his shoulders was a mass of brilliant white hair, that hung to his waist. She had never seen such a creature beforeâ€¦ and was both scared and enchanted.

"Do not be frightenedâ€¦. I merely wished to know what that lovely odor was, and instead found you." Said a voice that was very silken, however, Sarah could not really decide if this voice belonged to a man or woman. "I did not wish to startle you. I am Amana the priest, and who are you, dear lady?"

Sarah's voice caught in her throat. She'd never had attention paid to her from such a lovely and bizarre creature before.
"I am Sarah, wife of Joshec Darkwoods, the carpenter. Do you wish to come in, Sir? You're soakin' wet!"

After all, what harm could it do, he could stay here and dry a bit, have a bit of warm cider and be on his way refreshed. He was after all, a priest.

The man smiled in a manner that was hard to read, it almost had the tinges of humor to it. "I would be delighted."

Before Sarah could make her way to the door to let him in, he merely disappeared. He was at the window, and then he was not. She stared wide eyed at the window, leaning foreword to peer out. Perhaps she had imagined him. But then she felt a drip of water on the back of her arm, and spun around to find herself an inch from the man in wet silk robes. What was before, only a mysterious smile, was now one that was blatantly frightening.

"Thank you, my lady," he purred, and pulled her close, arms wrapping about her only slightly pudgy waist. Sarah was too scared to resist, or to really do anything. Taking advantage of this, the dark priest pulled her close for a rather violent kiss. Something in Sarah's mind snapped and she began to flail about and struggle. Amana Ill Bast let her go with a giggle, and watched as she scrambled madly away. Then he seemed to disappear again. And Sarah felt the cold edge of iron, touch her throat. But that was all she felt, because she soon slipped to the floor with her throat gleaming red with a wicked gash in front.

The dark priest pulled up his robes, and daintily stepped over her, avoiding getting any gore on his person, and strolled over to the counter. Using the small bloodied curved dagger, he cut off a small piece of dough and popped it into his mouth. "Delicious."

And he settled down to wait for the company he was expecting to arrive.

Dressed in the robes of a Black Mage, with matching hat, Inverse Stanovski sat at the bar, enjoying a quiet day. It feels just like home today, he thought happily, as he sipped at a mug of quality ale. He looked out the window and smiled at the rain. Gray skies and thunder. It felt very much like home today.

Born and raised in the City of Storms in Barius, he spent most of his life under the Eternal Storm. It was quite odd for him, coming to the mainland and experiencing constantly clear skies. Not to mention the lack of canals and waterwheels in the streets, as well as the abscene of underground tunnels and subterraen gardens to deal with the endless rain.

But he adapted. Still, it is nice to see a proper storm once in a while, for old times sake.

Setting the ale down, he grins under the shadows of his hat, and listens in on the other patrons, hoping to catch some of juicy rumors...

It was raining, and my guide was unwilling to go further until it stopped. Being a blind man, and unfamiliar with the part of Doma I was in, I had no choice but to follow him into the bar. He called it the 'Ivory Horn'.

I supposed that I looked somewhat out of place there, dressed in the robes of a holy man, and feeling my way carefully with my staff. But, then, I have always been a odd sight, I'm told, and I couldn't see the odd looks the people were giving me anyway. As my guide ordered a drink for himself, I took a seat at a table, hopefully an unoccupied one, and folded my hands on top of my staff.

At least, I found myself thinking, the room is warmer than outside. Still, I felt out of place in that bar. Dumat knows that I, Joshua Durron, was no friend of strong drink. It often inspired people to lose control of themselves, and do things they would later regret. I sighed, and found myself hoping the rain would let up soon...

A figure sat silently in one of the alcoves carved into the roots of the giant tree in the middle of the room, sipping her tea. It was far too busy in the establishment for her tastes. Thusly, she had decided to leave, to find somewhere slightly less populated.

However, that decision changed quickly upon the entrance of the drow priest. She had seen this man before...and as such, she also knew of his relations. Kumiko Misahari was always supicious, and being of high elven blood, doubly so when dealing with this...scum.

Having not been spotted yet, she resolved to sit back and monitor Elan, for a few minutes at the very least.

Alejandra Mikail Blanca, or only Alejandra if you prepared, rushed through the streets of Doma with the hood of her traveller's robe up. This weather made her edgy, she didn't like rain, and she would like nothing more than spend some time before a nice fireplace, perhaps drinking some sweet tea, or even try a small cup of cider, and then curl up to rest. As it was now, she was at lost on what to do.

The young neko-jin had arrived in Doma only a short while ago, and although she was fairly familiar with the general outline of the city, the rain, mud and mass of people made orienting in it so hard.

A strand of her gray hair loosed itself from her pony tail and fell into her face, and she frustrades wiped it back, but it wasn't until after several tries that the strand remained out of her face. Her green cat-like eyes quickly snapped back and forth between buildings and streets, trying to find anything she remembered.

When she came to a small market square, she quickly ran over to one of the stalls and placed herself under the protective piece of thick cloth that covered the wares from the rain.

The merchant, a apple-chinned farmer from the looks of it, looked over at the dripping wet neko-jin and smiled warmly.

"Take this, my little friend." He said heartily and handed her a small cone of something. The stench of the streets coupled with a runny nose made it impossible for Alejandra to smell what it was, but she remembered it's shape and touch enough to know it contained a bundle of sweets. She gratiously bowed to the man and offered to pay for this, she could afford it, but the man simply shook his head and laughed. He shooed her off and waved after her with a big smile on his face. He was obviously not a townsman then.

Alejandra quickly placed the cone into one of her pockets, she couldn't bring them out in this weather as they would probably be spoiled, and then she rushed away again.

After a while, she finally arrived at the place she was looking for, the same inn she and her father had stayed at during their first visit to the City. The Ivory Horn.

When she entered, the familiar air of ale, smoke and hay filled her still quite chilled nose, and she sneezed slightly. But she remembered this smell, and this was the one place she considered safe in Doma. She waved slightly at the innkeeper, a bit embarrassed to arrive so sudden, and then sat down at one of the free tables, the precious few left that is. Taking off her hood, she began drawing her hands through her gray-white striped fur, trying to draw out whatever moist had managed to penetrate the hood and cloak.

I wasn't sure, at first, that I was the one being addressed. The bar was noisy, and there were over twenty distinct conversations that my ears could pick out. But as my eyes looked unseeingly about me, I became fairly sure that the person was, indeed, speaking to me. I had not heard anyone use the term 'sir' in any of their conversations since I had entered the Horn.

Taking my best guess as to where the person was standing, I looked in his general direction and answered, "Of course my child. What can I do for you?"

Idran enters Doma for the first time in quite a while. The heavy rain leads him to enter the first inn he comes across: The Ivory Horn. He is unfamiliar with this establishment, but it seems inviting enough. The last time he entered a Doman Inn, it was a bit...exciting. Hopefully, it will be calmer than last time. Even more hopefully, it won't be.

It is quite busy when he enters, and he has trouble finding a table. He stands by the doorway, waiting for the crowd to clear a bit, so he can find somewhere to sit down.

I smiled slightly. "A man of peace? I would like to think so. But the holy powers have decreed that I should see little of that in the past decade or so. However, my robes are those of a cleric, which is what I am. Have you come seeking aid, or are you merely curious as to what a man such as myself is doing here?"

Inverse's mind was already at work, piecing together the bits and pieces of information he had collected. The old man was a dead giveaway: Old, Obviously blind, dressed in the robes of a priest dedicated to some silly saint. Obviously that blind prophet, Durron.

As for Will... there were so many things said about him, it would take Inverse all day just to list them.

But that woman sitting in back, listening in from the alcove... She was a mystery. One that Inverse decided needing an unravelling. So he discreetly watched her, keeping an eye on her movements, and her mannerisms.

"My name is Elan Ill Bast, and I am a follower of Ashura. I merely wanted to ask... well, Sir, for a little advice. I really... do not know what to do recently, and I am quite grieved. I try to make peace whenever possible, but I fear that this situation will not allow it."

Bounty hunters. The scum of the scum of the underworld. They do anything for money, and that only includes capturing bounties. They had been referred to merely as Hunters by some, as if they all hunted for anything that would gain them enough money to continue wandering just a while longer. No hunter could be parted from the world. That's what they were: travellers.

Such a faceless night, or more of a soulless night, descended upon Doma during the arrival of Gren. He was a merciful hunter, that was true, but only to those who deserved mercy. Otherwise he was basically a murderer. Any common man wouldn't know the name of Gren- he wasn't infamous- but those that met him seemed to always keep him in the back of their mind.

"How do I suppose I'll find a horse theif?" Gren muttered to himself as he trudged through the entrance to the Ivory Horn, balling a piece of old, crinkled paper in his hand as he made a fist.

Gren was quite a depressing figure to look at. Utterly black attire and long, stringy white hair that covered his eyes whenever he wanted to look at something. His sword, a very thin, pointed blade, was strapped to his back by means of an elaborate scabbard-type device. As he scanned the room, Gren immediately realized he did not want to be here.

"So many people... I hate people," noted Gren in his own, pessimistic attitude. He tossed the paper onto the floor and found himself an empty table. His thirst was so overwhelming that he could bear the burden of humanity for at least one drink, if not more.

Elan watched the man for a moment, biting his lip. He did not know this man, but still wanted some sound advice from someone older.

IM: I can't let too much out about my sister, if at all possible. I have to do this myself...

"You see, Sir, I have an older sister." Elan paused for a moment, thinking of how to continue. "To say we serve opposite forces is the best way of looking at it. She...well, has a small habit of making trouble, and I have let it pass. I thought perhaps she would realize what she was doing is wrong. Shows how naive I still am. I'm afraid, Sir, that she is up to much grander devilry now. And to be honest, I think what little sanity my sister had has fled her completely. I feel this time I must put a stop to this, but I do not know how to keep her from what she is planning... Ama- my sister is very set in her ways, you see."

Elan took a deep breath after rattling all that out. He had almost said his sister's name.

I was silent. Almost for to long, I believe. Maybe he felt that I was senile, and forgetting quickly everything I heard. Maybe he thought I had fallen asleep. I don't know. All I know is that time stretched on, and I could think of no real advice to give this boy.

Finally, I found words. "Child, I never had a sister, or a brother, for that matter. I will not pretend that there are simple words or strategems that can calm your soul or solve your problem. But if you care for her... if you really care for her, you will never stop seeking to save her.

"But," I sat forward, letting my staff fall to the crook of my elbow, "neither can you allow her to bring suffering to others. You say you have never confronted her about her sins. Perhaps it is time that you did so..."

I let my voice trail off, knowing this conversation was far from over. People like this are not rare. Rather, they are all to common. There would be objections, I was sure, and questions from both of us that would need answering. But I was willing to take the time to help this man, for suddenly there was a feeling of deep unease settling in my soul...

It was then, however, that I believe I began to grasp exactly what sort of situation I was dealing with. "Then you feel that force may be necessary to stop her."

It was not a question, and perhaps my tone was a bad one to take. Yet, I could think of nothing else to say, and the result of the words was harsh. Rather than try to soften them, however, I chose to see how the boy would respond. Hopefully, I would gather some spark of insperaton there.

Almost as suddenly as he had entered, William Baseton stood up and walked out of the inn. Almost an instant after he had left his seat, a water balloon splattered on it.

"What a day..."

Once Will was out of sight, a blue-haired man stepped into the inn. Hair made into a short bowl-cut, this man carried a strange spear. The only odd thing about it was the fact that its blade was made of pure WATER. He surveyed the inn, then noticed the drow boy. He locked his eyes on him and stared.

In a strained voice he manages to say, "She means to do it this time... And she has help... and the magic... and the resources... I saw them in her tower..." He seems no longer to be able to say anything for a minute.

Kumiko was paying very close attention to the conversation at this point. She knew that Elan's sister was never up to any good. However, while she certainly didn't trust the motives of this drow, at the same time she knew very well that if he seemed worried about what Amana was about to do, she most definitely should be, too.

For a moment, Kumiko pondered the possibility of leaving her shadowy little alcove, approaching Elan. However, she knew that if she did so, he would immediately become worried, and possibly cease his informative little conversation. Unwilling to risk it just yet, she continued her silent observation, occasionally sipping her tea, musing on how best to communicate her intentions to the drow...

Inverse was not quite ready to draw any more attention to himself just yet. Especially with the appearance of Ignes. He had heard aaaaaall about Ignes. And, he wanted to see if that story about the three sheep was true or not.

So the Barian sips his ale, feigning disinterest while listening in.

I wonder where Raina will want to go for supper tonight? he ponders idly.

The situation was becoming more clear. The person I was talking to was a Drow, apparently, and one who was having trouble with his sister. His sister, in turn, had gone quite mad, and was planning something in a tower somewhere in Doma.

It was nothing I hadn't heard of time and again across the world. Yet, things like this always chill my blood. I've seen the visions, time and again, of what such threats can do. I've prayed time and again that they never come to pass. I clutched my staff tighter, but waited. I would have to hear more before I could do anything more here...

"A tower, you say?" Inverse says from his seat at the bar, his shadow-hidden lips curving into a smile. "Now, I have heard some stories about that myself."

Without awaiting a prompt, he begins to rattle off a few of the rumors he had collected thus far. "It's on the outskirts of town, we know that much. It has a garden of brass animals, too. Some people say they speak with the voices of lost children, others say they come to life. A couple even claim these statues turn to solid gold in the light of the full moon.

"I hear the occasional story of a of odd lights collecting there. Strange energies, and odd noises. Some tell me they hear Valthi-speak in there, or animals hooting. One man swore he saw a banshee flying around that tower.

"Of course, the owner of that tower has more than his share of tales. Some say he's a Valthi surgeon, collecting living victims for surgical experiments. Others say a vampire, building an army of undead; one man swore he looked like the King's Grandfather!. A reliable source said something about a catgirl in heat; that she's quite the sex maniac and to stay away. I've also heard the owner might be some kind of bronze caster; which would explain all the animals; or an enchanter working on Golems."

Alejandra looked up as the man with the blue spear entered, and she noted with not a little bit of surprise that it was made out of water. However, the time she had been travelling, she'd encountered enough odd things to at least not get freightened, not until she was threatened.

The young neko-jin listened to the conversation between the priest and the strange, black man. She'd never seen one of her kind, and when another man approached and referred to this black man as a 'drow', that only made her more puzzled.

She remained outside the conversation for as long as she could muster, but when finally the shadow-hidden man began his description of this tower, her interrest grew. A garden of brass animals? She leaned closer to hear more of what this man was speaking about, but when the rumours the man talked about turned even stranger, her interrest faltered. Obviously the man had no idea of what he was talking about.

Elan now found him the center of attention in the bar, he flattened his ears showing his displeasure at this.

For a minute of stoney silence he finally said, "My name is Elan Ill Bast." He turns to regard Inverse. "And my apologies, Sir, but none of that is true... well very little. It is on the outskirts of Doma, it does have a garden of brass animals. But it belongs to my sister and none else you have named off. And I assure you my sister is no hormonal catgirl... that woman lives not far off though."